On the sunbaked Street of the Marble Foot I noticed a small weed parked under a BMW. My impulse control told me to take a picture of it.
Bill and I walked down the Street of the Marble Foot many times -- on our way to Enoteca Corsi, or the grocery beyond it, or on a short cut to Trastevere through the Campo dei Fiori. The weed was struggling bravely, making the best of things. Or maybe it was sulking. Cursing fate.
At the end Bill and I stood by our little friend awhile in silence.